As the third-years walked in, Severus remembered that he was supposed to be one of the most feared and hated teachers in the school. He contemplated a sudden personality shift, in honor of his new understanding with Hermione, but realized that would probably terrify them even more.

"Welcome," he said, in his usual faintly sarcastic, disbelieving voice, "back to Potions." He gestured to Hermione standing next to him. "As you can see, Hermione Granger is helping me out today, due to an unfortunate accident yesterday, rumors about which have probably already circulated, all of which are probably false. You are to treat her with the same respect you give to me."

He glared around at them threateningly.

"You should all have your summer homework ready to be collected," he said, and nodded at Hermione to using a Summoning Charm to collect them. "Today's class will be devoted to the brewing of a Shrinking Solution. Begin preparing your ingredients following the instructions in your books."

As class began, Severus found he wasn't really thinking about the students, but about what he and Hermione would do tonight during detention. Talk? (Have sex?) Discuss lesson plans? the students? Maybe it would be hopelessly awkward. But he'd be spending time with her, take the liberty of ruffling her hair again. He was very much looking forward to it. He should make sure the house-elves provided some wine. Did she drink? What were her favorite foods? What were her table manners like? Severus found that he wanted to know everything about her.

Taking heed to her professor's instructions, Hermione ruffled up the sleeves to her robe and swiftly pulled out her wand. After a few flicks and sparks, the students' homework vanished from their own desks and reappeared in a neat pile on Snape's desk. Hermione looked to the pile as she placed her wand back into her pocket, and instantly picked up on the fact that the pile wasn't an equivalent representation to the number of students in the room. She hadn't expected any better, however; she recalled her third year when 20% of the other students didn't complete their summer assignments. On the contrary, she always finished all her homework the day right after school ended.

She averted her mildly disappointed gaze from the pile of work and locked onto her professor. Seeing his face made her fingertips tingle—she could remember the feeling of his skin so precisely; rough and worn, yet strikingly smooth in some areas. It had been cold to the touch against her hands, but for some reason that only made her want to warm him up. Would he let her?

Realizing that her thoughts were beginning to lead back into a state of absurdity, Hermione forced herself to look away from the potions master and settle on the students. She remembered how many were prone to going wrong, so she would have to maintain a sharp eye.

---

((Just to let you know... unless you have a particular idea in mind, I wouldn't be opposed to skipping ahead to the end of afternoon classes.))

((Sure, we can skip.))

---

The Shrinking Solution went as it always had—one student volunteered his cat, which Severus asked Hermione to Summon to the classroom. The resultant kitten, following successful application of the potion, had all the girls making those silly cooing noises and trying to pet it. When Severus returned the kitten to its normal—and quite pissed off—adulthood, the girls all had to jump back to avoid being bitten and scratched by what seemed like three heads and seven legs. Severus had to fight a snort of amusement.

The next class was also fairly uneventful, and when Severus released them at four o'clock he turned to Hermione with a sigh of relief.

"I'd like to step up to Poppy," he told her, "and see if the ban on my use of magic is finally over. It's been very difficult to prevent myself using magic for so long. After that, I'll go speak with the Headmaster about your apprenticeship situation."

He had been bundling homework scrolls into piles on his desk as he spoke, and now looked at Hermione. "As you're still in detention with me for the rest of the term"—he allowed a small smile to try to let her know that it wasn't really a punishment—"would you mind coming at six o'clock for dinner? I promise I won't have you disemboweling horned toads. Most likely," and he spoke seriously, "I'll ask you to mark some of the summer essays."

As she caught Snape's smile and heard him offer the opportunity to fulfil her punishment with more pleasant work, Hermione couldn't help but begin considering the prospect of actually enjoying her detention. It would mean the majority of her time would be spent with the man, overall, but if he was really opening up with her and turning over a new leaf, she had the feeling she truly wouldn't mind it.

A reciprocated smile fresh on her face as she faced him, she responded with “Sure, that sounds great.” It was an honest relief that she would get the chance to partake in grading students' work opposed to something repulsive.

Turning to gather her belongings, Hermione paused when she suddenly remembered her little date with Harry and Ron. The past few hours had been so distracting that she had completely forgotten. She supposed she would now have to include the fact that she wouldn't be attending anymore classes with them... well, except Potions, of course—she would be joining them for that, just not from the same perspective.

That was going to be awkward.

Her mood now slightly stressed, Hermione released a heavy breath as she made her way to the door. “See you at six, Professor.” She called out to him, sending a brief glance over her shoulder.

Poppy reluctantly agreed that Severus could perform magic again. "But you're not to do any massive workings, or anything complicated. Take it easy, and if you start getting headaches in both temples, come right back!"

Severus agreed, and left the infirmary with almost a spring in his step. He celebrated being able to use magic again—it had been a very long day—by magically forcing open the door of a broom cupboard from which he'd been hearing furtive whispers and giggles. Instantly two fourth-years fell out of it, the boy covered in lipstick, the girl bright red. He took twenty points, each, from Ravenclaw, and felt wonderful.

Albus let Severus in before he'd even knocked. "How were your lessons today?" he asked, twinkling all over his wrinkled face.

"Tolerable," Severus said. He wouldn't let Albus know he'd won for as long as he could stand it.

"Come now, it couldn't have been that good," Albus said.

"I lectured, demonstrated, and the students took notes and copied my actions," Severus said. "They were lessons."

"Severus..." Albus said, a good-natured warning.

"Miss Granger has excellent reflexes, a strong intuitive sense of magic, and could easily take her N.E.W.T.s now."

Albus leaned back in his chair, smiling an annoyingly pleased smile. "Could she indeed?"

Severus at last realized what must have happened. "You were spying out of the Floo most of the day, weren't you?"

"Not most of the day," Albus said, adding four sugar cubes to his tea, "but I did hear a very interesting conversation right after lunch.

Severus let out an exasperated sigh and leaned his head in one hand.

"So," Albus continued, sounding at last a little more serious, "which of Miss Granger's current teachers should be notified that she will be withdrawing from lessons?"

Severus took his head out of his hand and looked back at his Headmaster. "All, in my opinion." He accepted the cup of tea, which he began to sip immediately. Sugar and cream were about as un-Severus as a sarcastic glower would be un-Albus. "Hermione is, simply put, brilliant."

"Yes, she is," Albus said, nodding. "The trouble will probably be the Ministry. They don't like giving tests out of season, and there's no way I can put Miss Granger on the Hogwarts payroll until she's qualified."

"Payroll?" Severus was astonished. "I'd thought—an apprenticeship situation—"

"—is always paid," Albus finished for him. "Hagrid began earning a wage the moment he was expelled and placed on the staff as caretaker's apprentice. His wasn't a large sum, but then again the position wasn't exactly a high one."

Severus sat back in his seat heavily, trying not to grin. Managing to give Hermione not only a way out of dull classes but an income as well... that felt good. "If you think it appropriate. Would not her current classmates object?"

"Only if she tells them," Albus said, "which will be completely up to her. But back to the task at hand. First, you'll need to collect signatures on the Ministry petition for an Exam Exception—it's at least thirteen pages long, Filch should have a copy somewhere—and make sure you get one from every professor, not just the ones currently teaching Miss Granger. Since she'll be your apprentice—"

"She doesn't have to be listed as mine..." Severus said, though every fiber of his being wanted to shout, She's mine! She's mine! "I know Minerva wanted—"

"Even if she takes Minerva and Filius' second year classes, she'll still be your apprentice."

"Why?" asked Severus, wondering what on earth was prompting him to object.

Albus leaned forward and sighed. "Why are you objecting, Severus?"

Severus was a little tongue-tied. "Just—I know the other professors wanted—She's far too talented—It seems selfish to keep her to myself—"

Albus raised amused eyebrows. "Well, she'll be listed as your apprentice, as it was your idea. That's the way it always is, for those few we take on. Why, Hagrid could have an apprentice who actually spent all her time with Madam Pomfrey." Abruptly the twinkle vanished, and Severus found himself the recipient of a very intense eyes-over-the-half-moon-glasses gaze. "She appears to have reached you in a way no other person ever has, including Lily Evans."

Severus felt a lump form in his throat at the emotions those words brought forward. He swallowed, and could only nod, unable to look away from Albus' bright blue eyes. "She's... very special."

"Indeed. She's not as fragile as you might think, Severus," Albus said softly.

"She's only seventeen!" Severus burst out. At the back of his mind he realized this was tantamount to a confession, but if Albus had been peering out of the Floo during their post-lunch meeting, he'd know everything already.

"She'll be eighteen on September 19th," Albus informed him. "She's been of-age since her sixth year, and is fully able to make her own decisions. In my own opinion," he added, pouring another cup of tea for himself, "that girl came into her own during her third year—she had a Time-Turner, did you know?"

Severus shot forward in his seat so fast he upset his tea all over his robes. Feeling relieved that he could at last give in to the automatic action, he siphoned it off with his wand. "No!" he exclaimed. "That explains how..."

Albus cut off his further remarks with a nod and wave. "It does." He changed the subject. "Now, tell me how the first-years were."

A half-hour later, when they'd concluded discussing the students, Albus bade Severus a pleasant evening, adding just as Severus opened the door to leave, "Take good care of her."

Severus turned and met Albus' eyes. "I will. She's the reason you lost a spy, after all. Oh—and can you ask Madam Pomfrey to look into a Subduing Salve for the Dark Mark? If I don't answer the call, eventually it might start to poison me."

Albus started forward in his chair and gestured Severus back inside. "What's this? Why did you never tell me?"

With a sigh, Severus closed the door behind him and stood again in front of the large desk. "It was never an issue until now," he admitted.

"How long?" Albus asked curtly, once more the brilliant wizard who defeated Grindelwald.

"Usually, or so I hear, a week of not answering the Call leads to immense, debilitating pain. Usually by ten days after the sufferer has either committed suicide or returned to the Dark Lord, so I do not know how long it takes for the poison to kill."

Albus stood up and came around the desk, grabbing Severus by his shoulders to emphasize his words: "Get Hermione Granger to help on this. You couldn't do it alone, nor could she, but your combined mental prowess with potions might just do it." He shook Severus as if he were a little boy. "We still need you."

Severus laughed ironically. "For what?"

Albus shook his head angrily. "Simply to be yourself. Don't be such a martyr! Everyone's always used you for one reason or another, including myself, and so you never learned to value yourself as others do." He let go of Severus. "I hope Miss Granger will help you with this, too."

Severus wasn't entirely sure about this, but nodded as he left.

How long would he have until the Mark burned again?

---

((*reads what she just wrote* OMG, sorry that went SO long.))

((Revenge!!!))

---

The hallways were jam-packed with students from the end-of-classes rush—reminding Hermione a lot of five o'clock traffic in the Muggle world. It took her triple the time to shuffle her way through the crowds; by the time it finally eased up, she had only just made it to the fourth floor.

As she continued her way up—at a much smoother pace—all of a sudden, when she thought she was making progress, she heard her name called from behind.

Turning around to identify the caller, she was greeted by a familiar female red-head. “Hey,” the girl said with an exhausted breath. “How did the rest of your classes go?”

Hermione smiled softly at the girl and motioned for them to continue walking as they talked. “They actually went fairly well, Ginny, thanks.”

“Not like ours, huh? It was pretty rotten... they're all a bunch of immature flobberworms.” She rolled her eyes.

With a sheepish laugh, Hermione remembered the failure that she had tried to erase from her memory. “Yes, well, hopefully it just won't turn out like that again.”

But, for some reason, Ginny appeared to be stumped by her remark. “Again?” She asked, face twisted in confusion.

From that, Hermione realized after that she just had a mental slip. Well, it wasn't too serious... it's not like the girl wouldn't find out during her next Potions class, anyway.

“Well, you see...” she cleared her throat, “I'm kind of going to be taking my N.E.W.T.s ahead of everyone, and will be spending the rest of my year at Hogwarts serving as a TA.” Her whole body clenched as she worried over how Ginny would take that.

“Wow!!” The girl exclaimed. “That's fantastic!” Hermione's body was gratefully allowed to relax. “Who is going to be your primary mentor? Snape?”

“Y—Why do you expect that?” Hermione sent her friend a sharp look as she wondered if speculations of their involvement were already rubbing off on others.

The red-head shrugged innocently. “I just figured he would have been the one to initiate it after today. I mean, let's face it, you had absolutely no interest in a teaching assistant position before now...”

The girl was clever, and made a very good point. It was a rather impromptu decision—one that Hermione still felt would be beneficial in the end, but questions and suspicions were prone to arising. She would just have to be extra cautious.

“Well, yes, Professor Snape will be guiding me through the majority of it.”

“Wow...” Ginny appeared to be in awe. “That's incredible. I never thought I'd see the day when Professor Snape actually takes interest in a student. But you certainly deserve that accomplishment much more than anyone else in this school.”

“Just don't go flaunting it.” Hermione warned lightly. Ginny was a friend she knew she could trust, so she had no doubt that she wouldn't.

“Don't worry,” Ginny assured her with a smile, “I would hate to be the cause of any silly rumours.”

Hermione cringed at the possibility.

A couple minutes later, they finally reached the Gryffindor common room. After entering, Harry and Ron were both spotted on the sofa next to the fireplace. Ginny waved heartily at both boys before turning away into the girls' staircase, leaving Hermione alone with them; she understood that the three needed privacy.

As Hermione made her way over to the sofa accompanied by her two best friends, she glanced around the room and felt that there were way too many people. “Is there anyone up in your dormitory?” She asked them upon greeting, not wanting to take any risks.

“Erm... I don't think so.” Harry said.

“Can we not just talk here?” Ron asked.

“No,” Hermione claimed, “Let's go up.” And without even checking to see if they were following, she spun around and made haste for the boys' dormitory. At times like these, she really valued the authority's decision not to bewitch it in correspondence to the girls' dormitory.

Happy to see that their four-person room was in fact vacant, Hermione plopped herself down on the bed that she could only assume was Ron's (the only one not made, with worn clothes and candies strewn everywhere). Harry and Ron appeared shortly after; Harry joined Hermione in sitting on the bed while Ron found a spot on the floor—mumbling something about being entitled to sit on his own bed.

“Alright,” Hermione began once they were all settled. “I'm just going to be honest with you two...” There was a small pause. “I lied.”

Two pairs of widened eyes bore into her. “What do you mean you lied!? About what?!?” Ron obnoxiously blurted out, looking as if he was about to get back up.

“Would you just listen first!?” Hermione snapped, sending the red-head a stern look.

Ron withdrew into a pout, crossing his arms and glaring moodily at her.

“Let's hear it, then.” Harry spoke up. His voice and expression were both serious. Clearly it was no fooling matter to him, and he wanted to get straight to the point.

It made Hermione even more nervous, but it was too late to back down.

Sitting up straight, she looked at both boys directly and started to explain. Her story began with the incident during her first detention, and then further leaded on to finish with how she was going to take her N.E.W.T.s early and proceed as a TA at Hogwarts. She left out the personal bits, such as her agreement with Dumbledore and little after-lunch scene with Snape. Throughout her speech, she noticed Harry and Ron making the weirdest faces and truly resisting the urge to interrupt, but by the time she finished... both were speechless.

“So, let me get this straight...” Harry finally broke the ice after an awkward moment of silence, his face more strained than Hermione had ever seen before. “Snape screwed us over, and now you're just going to sit around being his assistant while we have absolutely no idea what to expect from Voldemort?!”

“He did not screw us over, Harry! It was an accident.” Hermione defended, getting flustered that Harry wasn't taking it in the way that she hoped. “And up until recently, we never knew what to expect from You-Know-Who. We put our faith in Dumbledore... which is exactly what we should be doing right now.”

Ron rolled onto his back. “I've had enough about You-Know-Who...” he whined, “Hermione, you can't be serious about becoming that old git's apprentice... you'll be helping him teach us—that's just bloody creepy!” Naturally, he always focused on the unimportant parts.

“Ron—“

“—Fine, if you two don't want to take this seriously, then I'm going to go talk to Dumbledore about it.” Harry snapped as he slid off the bed. Robes whipping behind him, he marched straight out of the room.

Releasing a saddened sigh, Hermione looked from the empty doorway to the red-head on the floor. “I'm so sorry, Ron.”

Before Ron even got the opportunity to respond, however, shuffling was heard from behind the doorway, and within three seconds Neville appeared, looking lost as usual.

“H-Hermione! What are you doing in here?” Shifting his attention downwards, he added “And what's Ron doing on the floor??” Ron sat upright at that.

“Sorry, Neville,” Hermione said as she hopped off the bed. “I was just leaving.” She walked toward the doorway where the boy stood, and her final look back at Ron was a pleading one. He seemed to understand as he gulped back before looking shamefully away.

Aware that he was obviously upset, she needed to give him some time alone. They would all have to face each other eventually, since they still shared Potions class, but Ron was different than Harry. He would come around.

((Does Harry need to have an on-screen discussion with Dumbledore?))

----

Severus went back to his classroom and began marking students' summer work. As usual, there were only a few students who truly understood the art and craft of Potions, and the rest simply regurgitated bits from the textbooks in a convenient order.

When he'd done as much of that as he could stand, he went and checked the seventh-years' Polyjuice Potion bases. They were coming along beautifully, most of them. Hermione's was, of course, the best of the lot, but he had to admit that Harry Potter's wasn't that far behind.

Lily had been wonderful at Potions. Severus easily remembered their first happy years at Hogwarts, in double Potions with Slytherins and Gryffindors. While Severus had already known a lot about Potions, having had an interest in it from childhood, Lily had truly had a gift—even stronger than Hermione's, he thought fairly. While Hermione was simply good at everything, Lily had been quite decent at most things, but brilliant at Potions. She'd always compared it to cooking, telling Severus that it was simply about loving the work, and knowing about the ingredients. Her intuitive feel for when a Potion recipe was a little off had rubbed off on him. Severus thought of that horrid book he'd used for N.E.W.T.-level potions, the one Slughorn had used last year when Severus had temporarily taken the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. He'd marked up his copy quite heavily, and had been quite furious upon learning that Harry Potter had managed to get a hand on it. Maybe reading Severus' own notes had actually helped Potter understand Potions better.

It wasn't so hard to think about Lily these days, now that he had somewhat made peace with James' ghost. Harry wasn't his father, Severus had been forced to admit. Harry was very much his mother's son, despite the looks, and Severus was trying to put away his old hatreds.

This, he felt, would be a very important step in improving his relationship with Hermione.

As he gave a stir to Draco Malfoy's Polyjuice base, he gave some thought to how to manage the transformations next month, when the potion was ready. Often students chose to transform into their best friends; some became their boyfriends or girlfriends. One year Severus had forced all the students to transform into him, and those students had suddenly become much politer and considerate of him after that. Living an hour in someone else's gawky, awkward, clumsy body certainly made you understand that person better.

This year, Severus rather thought he'd pair them off himself. Malfoy and Potter ought to get a taste of what it was to be each other, he thought viciously. As Hermione's potion would be ready at the same time—she still had to finish a few last class requirements before she could take the exam, and he planned to take her through those potions during their detentions—perhaps, if she were willing, they could turn into each other.

A house-elf appeared with a crack, causing Severus to glance at the clock. Was it already ten minutes to six?

"Thank you, Winky," Severus said, recognizing Barty Crouch's old house-elf. She was doing much better these days, with Dobby's care.

"You is welcome, Professor Snape sir," said Winky. "Please, will you tell Miss Hermione that I says hello?"

Severus was taken aback, but promised to pass on the greetings. Winky disappeared with another loud crack, and Severus opened the wine bottle to air. It was a white, crisp and cold, not too strong. Enough perhaps to get them a little tipsy and un-inhibited, but half a bottle spread out over a few hours ought not to cause any problems.

He wondered, far more than he knew he ought to have, over where to be when she arrived. He looked down in sudden panic at his clothes and wondered if he ought to change. His robes were somewhat stained with splashes from student conconctions, and he could smell a definite reek of "dirty clothes" from them. With a rush, he used the castle Floo to return quickly to his rooms a few floors up, changed into weekend robes of green and silver, washed his face, combed his hair, cursing his father's heritage, and was back down in his classroom right at six o'clock, feeling nervous.

Get it together, Sev, he told himself fiercely. You're still her teacher, even if she's moved up a rung. And this is officially detention.

((Nope. Can't be bothered, lol. We'll just say he did.))

---

Hermione only ended up having 30 minutes left before she had to arrive for detention. Within that time frame, she met back up with Ginny and explained to her what happened with Harry and Ron. For some reason, Ginny seemed to be so much more understanding—there were times when Hermione felt she could trust her with anything. Perhaps it was a girl-to-girl thing.

At the time the hands of the clock reached precisely five minutes before six, Hermione said goodbye to Ginny as she saw her off to the Great Hall, before turning and making her own way down to the dungeons.

Arriving nervously upon the potions room door, Hermione decided on a whim to try the doorknob before she knocked. She was more than surprised to discover that it was actually open. 'Oh no, don't tell me he's not here again...' she thought as she proceeded to swing open the door.

No, he was quite clearly there.

Hermione nearly felt her jaw drop at the sight she beheld. The very first thing she noticed was that he wasn't wearing his customary black robes—she had rarely ever seen him without them; perhaps on merely a couple of occasions throughout the years. It was a shock, to say the least.

With whatever consciousness she still had, she shut the door behind her and slowly approached the man, eyes not straying in the slightest. As she got closer, she also noticed that his face looked somewhat brighter, and hair neater—with what little improvement was possible.

She felt her voice get lost in her throat somewhere for a moment, and had to swallow to get it back.

All she managed to muster was, “You look... nice.”

((Actually, Hermione should have seen him in green and silver from a Quidditch match or two... *grin* That was a quick fix!

I'm going to keep Menewsha open today, but I have to start work on my FAFSA and Fulbright applications, so I might be slow to respond.))

---

Severus was immensely pleased that Hermione had noticed. However, he found himself simply saying, "My school robes were quite dirty."

Hermione, on the other hand, looked as if she'd been running around nonstop since the end of classes, and looked somewhat bothered, as well. Had she told her friends about her new position, and not been well received?

"I spoke with the Headmaster," Severus told her, pretending a calm he did not feel as he poured the white wine into two glasses and held one out to her questioningly. "He's completely in favor of the arrangement. You'll be put on the faculty as my apprentice, with the appropriate stipend, and as soon as you've finished the last few required assignments in each subject, you can take the N.E.W.T. exams. We'll need to draft a petition for the Ministry, and get all the teachers to sign it. It needs full school support, but I don't anticipate any troubles."

Severus felt himself grinning, actually grinning, with pride and a thrill of anticipation. He raised his glass in a toast to her. "Congratulations."

((Okey doke! I need to clean my apartment, do laundry, and take out trash today so I should be extra slow anyway. I also need to finish the hangout banner, which has only been sketched.))

---

'Uh oh' Hermione thought as she spotted the white wine and was further offered a glass. Out of consideration, she reluctantly accepted it, but that didn't mean she was actually going to drink it. Alcohol—of any sort—was something she'd sworn to shun from her life. She cherished her mind way too much to allow anything to pollute it; and from her lack of experience with alcohol, she knew her consciousness would give in much too quickly.

She was head over heels to hear the news, though. “Thank you,” she said with a wide grin while raising her glass to his, producing a light 'clink!' When she customarily brought the rim of the glass to her lips, she tilted it ever so slightly and pretended to sip it for a couple seconds.

As she watched him, she suddenly felt extremely dirty and under-dressed. The clothes she wore have been on her since that very morning, and with the addition of pacing around on her feet all day in the potions classroom, it made her feel extra clammy. Normally that wouldn't bug her, but he seemed to have gone out of his way to polish his appearance, so she felt bad for not thinking to do the same. She wondered if he would care. She wondered why she cared.

Severus looked around the classroom, realizing with distaste that the setting was hardly conducive to a comfortable working environment. Next time, they'd meet in his office, and eventually, perhaps, his rooms... Save it for later, Sev.

"I'm really looking forward to working with you," he said, and meant it. Rummaging on his desk, he pulled out the list of potions she had yet to complete—there were twelve of them, and could probably be done in a few weeks. "I'll ask the other professors to prepare similar lists of required work. It's all hoops to jump through, really, but the Ministry will refuse the petition outright if these aren't on your record."

He looked at Hermione. She seemed... twitchy. Uncomfortable. And it was clear she hadn't actually drunk any of the wine.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she lied, nervously tucking the right side of her hair behind her ear.

After another 'sip' of the alcoholic beverage, she took the papers out of Snape's hands and skimmed through the list. With confidence, she said, “These won't take me very long.” Yes, she was purposely trying to keep on track of the subject. “Shall I start now or do you having something else you'd like me to do?”

---

((Gah, my posts may be short like this for a little while... depending.))

Severus was a little dismayed by her attitude of hard purposefulness. He must have mistaken her reaction earlier that day—had she simply been disgusted to be so near to him, and was putting her disgust aside in favor of an intellectually stimulating position, outside the usual rank-and-file of student life?

"I'd prefer it if you could take half of these third-year essays," he replied, setting his wine down and, still feeling that little bit of relief and joy, Summoning the scrolls worldlessly with his wand. He made half of them float in the air in front of her. "I required five short essays on the properties of five major ingredients. They could choose from unicorn hair, phoenix feathers, dragon's blood, mugwort, beetles, newt's eyes, frog toes, bats' wool, and dog tongues. Grade it out of ten points. Try a few first and we'll compare grades."

So saying, he magicked some food onto a plate for himself, put the scrolls on his desk, and Conjured a chair next to his at his desk so she could sit next to him.

"Would you like anything to eat?" he asked as he set his own plate down and returned to the small table Winky had set out.

Now, the offer of alcohol was stretching it a bit far... but, as for food, Hermione couldn't say no. She hadn't eaten for six hours, so the instant he brought it up made her realize how hungry she really was.

“I'd love some,” she told him.

While waiting, she sat down on the pulled up chair, then picked up her cut of the homework pile and started flipping through the sheets. Their hand-writing was dreadful—as if most of them scribbled everything down during the last minute. Chances were they probably did.

Severus magicked more food onto a plate for Hermione and sent it floating across the room towards her. It settled itself gently down at her right elbow, where she could eat as she graded.

Severus settled himself in his chair and began grading as well. This was wonderfully companionable, he thought, as he skimmed the first essay, his quill poised over the inkpot. Grading together, sharing a meal, sitting in comfortable silence—

He'd knocked the inkpot over before he realized what he was doing. In agony, his right hand came over to clutch his left forearm. Doubling over in pain, he found his forehead crushing the pile of homework scrolls.

The Dark Mark had begun to burn.

The Dark Lord wanted his servant back.

Hermione nearly toppled off her chair after being so startled by Snape's sudden outbreak. Her head whipped in his direction and that was when she realized that he was actually in severe distress. Ignoring the mess that the fallen inkwell was making on the desk, her hands instinctively rushed to his shoulder.

“Professor! Are you alright? What's going on?!” Panic increased within her heart as she stared wide-eyed at the aching man.

Looking down, she saw that he was clutching his forearm—right where she knew his Dark Mark was embedded. 'Oh no...' she thought as she remembered the predicament between him and Voldemort. At that point, her concern grew—partly because she had no knowledge of what to do in this kind of situation.

"Dark Mark..." Severus gasped. "Burning. Get bottle... cupboard... top shelf right... Cooling Gel..."

He had his eyes closed against the pain, and hoped Hermione would hurry with the medication. He'd have to explain to her what was likely to happen.

As he thought of that, he realized that, unless they found a cure or treatment—or killed the Dark Lord—within the next month, he wouldn't be around to enjoy her company once she'd finished her N.E.W.T. exams. He simply had to live, had to.

Within the pain, he found he could think more freely of things that he'd previously kept covered: Albus had paired them together deliberately, knowing Hermione would have this effect on him, knowing that Severus would need something to keep him going now that his purpose as a spy was finished.

He had to live.

((Zomg, I just won the Sunken Treasure raffle... twice. O: I am so freakin' happy!))

---

There wasn't even a single second's break between Snape's instructions and Hermione kicking back her chair as she darted to the indicated cupboard. Before she could even reach the cupboard, she whipped out her wand and pointed it at the little door; sparks flew out and blasted it straight off its hinges.

Frantically, Hermione shoved all the useless bottles to the side and snatched the required one. It hadn't even reached thirty seconds before Hermione was right back at Snape's side, grabbing his arm by force, and hastily ruffling his sleeve up to the elbow to reveal the squirming tattoo of a skull and snake. The lid of the ointment bottle went flying as she twisted it off. Quickly, she dug two fingers into the icy gel and immediately applied it all over the mark.

Her gaze flickered from the mark to his declined face to see his reaction as she gently massaged the salve into his flesh—desperately hoping to find ease.

((Awesome, congrats!))

----

The burning sensation was instantly subdued as Hermione rubbed the salve on his forearm. Severus gasped with relief, and knew tears were coursing down his cheeks. He couldn't speak, and only managed a grunt of thanks as she continued rubbing.

Within ten seconds the burning was fully subdued, but Severus' raw physicality had taken over. He felt like nothing but a bundle of nerves and emotion, instincts and reactions, as he had the other night when Hermione had fallen in the glass. She was so close, leaning over him, her face a mask of worry and concern. He looked up at her, entranced, in wonder at this bushy-haired savior who had suddenly come into his life.

He couldn't stop himself.

He stood up so fast his chair went flying. Disregarding the fact that gunk would get all over her robes, Severus pulled Hermione close, tipped her chin up, leaned down, and kissed her soundly on the lips.

As her professor's relief was apparent, Hermione was seconds away from retracting her hand when he bolted abruptly out of his seat, alarming her. Within the following fleeting seconds, she worried that perhaps she did something wrong, when all of a shocking sudden... he had leaned in and kissed her.

Well, that was certainly one way of thanking someone.

A flood of about five emotions struck her instantly upon impact; the main one being pure and utter shock. The rest ranged from confused, to entranced, to intrigued, to revulsion.

It was a feeling she had only felt once before within her lifetime, yet a balanced comparison was hardly legitimate. His lips were cold and slightly rough against her's—nothing like the soft, warm embrace of the Bulgarian Seeker. Nevertheless, for some reason she found the sensation to be captivating. A part of her wanted to tear her lips away and slap him, while another part of her wanted to bathe in this new, strange feeling.

A twitch away from parting her lips and granting further exploration opportunity, Hermione quickly put a stamp down on her instincts and painfully pulled herself away. She turned to the side and touched her fingers astoundingly to her lips. Not entirely sure what just transpired, Hermione took a moment to compose herself.

She felt the need to say something, but didn't know what one said after something like that. Even though she knew it wasn't her fault, she habitually settled with whispering “I'm sorry.”

((I thought Viktor kissed Hermione? That's up to you, though, if you want to make up her background a bit.))

----

Severus blinked as he heard Hermione apologize.

"No..." he said, hoarse. "It is I who am sorry."

The screen was up again, the barrier between them, the one he must have deluded himself into thinking was being broken down.

"I—" He wasn't sure what to say. He wavered between confessing his ardent love for her and making up a plausible lie. She was so upset, though, and he knew that whatever he chose to say, he didn't want to upset you. After a hesitation, he finally said, "I hold you in deep respect, Hermione, and would never wish to offend you. I apologize most profoundly for my loss of control."

He straightened his robes, pulling down the sleeve over the faintly itching Dark Mark. Control, Sev, control.

"Much as I would like to say 'Perhaps it's better if you go,' I need to tell you something very important." He took a single, slow breath. "The Dark Mark will burn until I answer it. Eventually the pain will drive me mad, probably drive me to suicide to make it stop. That's how it has been with other defectors. The Headmaster has suggested that you, Madam Pomfrey, and myself work together to find a solution. Whether that means a stronger Cooling Gel, a containment spell of some sort, or perhaps simply doing away with the Dark Lord," he said in complete seriousness, "something will need to be done or I will probably be dead within the month." He spoke evenly; long ago Severus had known that he might die quite young, trying to navigate his way between Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. Now, though, with this girl forming a central point of obsession (admit it, Sev, it's an unhealthy obsession), he found he was less enthusiastic about the prospect.

"I... have been acting in a way that is hardly professional, and completely lacking in consideration of your position as my teaching assistant. I would hardly be surprised if you left this room and refused to ever come back, considering the events of the past two days." He winced at the thought. "Are you willing to stay and help?"

((Ah, sharp as always! Thanks, it's been fixed.))

---

Something struck Hermione while Snape was explaining himself; something hard. His words were unmistakably sincere and realization of his circumstance greatly frightened her.

All reserved emotions aside, Hermione now turned to her professor—a serious, somewhat dangerous look on her face. “You're just telling me this now?” Her voice cracked, but she ignored it. “How long have you known? ... We should have tended to this right away!” Disregarding the retreat of the mark, she took his arm into her hands once again and exposed the poisonous burden.

Staring down at it the second time, she recalled the excruciating effect it had on her professor simply a moment ago. The torture he expressed was so dreadful that she had almost felt as if she could very well feel it herself; she could only imagine how bad it must have been for him. The thought made her eyes sting hotly—she wouldn't dare cry, but all of a sudden she found herself understanding and forgiving the man's impulsive reaction. If she had been in his position, she probably would have been just as reckless. It actually amazed her how he was able to remain as calm as he was.

“I will help,” she submitted, finally.

((No problem, I'm a HUGE canon geek! ^_^ If you ever want to retro-fix or whatever the term is, retroactively change something from the books, that's totally fine with me.))

---

Severus bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered. Then he admitted, in a low, severe voice, "It's taking a lot of willpower not to kiss you again out of gratitude. I was wrong to force myself on you like that."

The pain in his arm, though dulled, was still a desperate throbbing ache, distracting, tortuous. In its own way, it was worse than the Cruciatus, with which he'd at least had plenty of experience. The burn from the Dark Mark was different this time than it usually was, as if the Mark—or its master—knew that Severus Snape had turned his back on the Death Eaters, and was attempting to hasten his demise from a distance.

"Hermione," he said, knowing that the Cooling Gel would only work for a little while, "please get the Headmaster. Floo powder is on the mantelpiece. Albus knows some magic that will suppress this temporarily."

((Oh, believe me, so am I. I don't mess around intentionally. But as I mentioned prior to the start of this RP, my knowledge in the details of Harry Potter is very limited, so I'm likely to make many mistakes! That's why it's so great that I have you to correct me. :P))

---

Hermione nodded firmly in response to her professor's request. “Right, I'll be back soon.” And she released the hold on his arm, turning quickly to dash in the direction the fireplace.

With a fast sweep, she snatched the satchel of floo powder off the surface of the mantelpiece and sunk her entire hand into it. It emerged, clenched, full of the green substance, and after setting the little bag back in its previous spot, she ducked and positioned herself inside the hollow of the fireplace.

Before leaving, she turned around once more to face the potions master; her eyes expressed the deepest concern as she hoped he would be alright for the little while that she was gone. Part of that concern was mixed with the desire to run forth and embrace him one last time, but she didn't dwell too long on the rashness of that thought as the powder was pitched and she poofed from the scene with a vibrant green flash.

Reappearing within Dumbledore's office itself, Hermione stumbled, hunched over, out of the smoky fireplace with a raspy cough. Once she collected herself, she searched immediately for Dumbledore and called, “Headmaster, sir, you've got to come, quick! It's Professor Snape's Dark Mark—he needs your help!”

((BTW, you said you work in web design -- my husband just asked me to re-design his old [very old] business website, and I started re-doing it from scratch, when I realized that about three years have passed since I did any serious coding. What's this YUI thing that seems to be everywhere? Do you know?))

---

Albus had been planning on a leisurely evening, reviewing faculty reports, considering what move to make next with the problematic Lord Voldemort, and then eventually surreptitiously poking his head into Severus' fireplace to see what had transpired between the two. They made such an elegant pairing, despite the age difference. He hoped Severus would be able to balance his obvious lust for the girl with his protective instincts, which were surprisingly strong—strong enough at least about Lily Potter for them to carry on almost two decades after her death. He also hoped that Hermione Granger would be able to get past Severus' rather un-handsome appearance and see the beautiful person he was inside, and would be able to stop thinking of him as "Professor Snape."

Albus had just settled down at his desk with the faculty reports and a glass of sherry when his fireplace blazed to life. Thinking it was probably Minerva, he didn't look up until he heard Hermione's cries for help.

"Severus' Dark Mark?" Albus said sharply, standing up quickly. He crossed at once to the fireplace and took Hermione by the arm, grabbing a handful of Floo powder as he did so. He dragged her into the fireplace with him as he commanded the network to send him to Snape's classroom.

They twirled in the flames for only an instant before being flung out onto the hard stone floor of the Potions classroom in the dungeons. Albus immediately saw that the situation was not good. He ran to Severus and crouched over him, pulling out his wand. "What is it?" he asked.

Severus was very relieved that Hermione had been so quick. "Trying... to kill... me, I think," he answered the Headmaster. "This isn't... just... a call." It was hard to speak; the Cooling Gel was wearing off and the pain was building with each breath.

Albus gently rolled up Severus' sleeve and took a look: the Mark was bright red, raw, as if it had been branded into his flesh only that moment. In fact, as he watched, it began gently to smoke, and Severus' gasps of pain became sharp yelps.

Albus had to think hard. The simple solution would be a stasis spell, which would keep the burn from spreading, but also make the arm useless. The next best, but more complicated, would be to try to embed the stasis spell in the Mark: problematic as Albus did not fully understand the magical mechanics behind the Dark Mark. If it went wrong, it would simply reverse the burn and send it into other parts of the body. Ideally, of course, they would figure out a way of getting rid of the Mark, but that would take time, which they didn't have if Voldemort was trying to kill his runaway servant this way.

Albus turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, how much do you know about the Dark Mark?"